Je Suis Prest – A Drink'n We Will Go.
Claire ran her fingers over his name one last time, making a mental image of the yellowing page, the fading of the ink, and the actual quill strokes of each and every letter that made his name... James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. She wondered whether it was Ellen or Brian that wrote the name; it seemed to be the same artistically flowing lines of ink that lovingly created each of the first three children's names, but a different script wrote the fourth, the name of the baby that died in birth. She then closed the rather large, leather bound book with a sigh. Her fingers danced over the ornately carved cover and spine, reading the lettering like braille. This Bible was three centuries old but had been devotedly cared for and beautifully maintained. It was in excellent shape for it's age. The detail in the embellished illustrations and gold leaf was phenomenal. Museum quality, no question. She had never seen another like it. She closed her eyes and held the book against her chest, stroking the soft leather like it was Jamie's fine red curls. She listened as her heart told her everything was going to be alright, to just believe, to have faith. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Claire turned to John and said "Thank you so much for sharing your family with me today. This is an amazing book. A family heirloom if ever there were one." With great reluctance, she slowly placed it back on the felt covering, re-wrapped it and tied the ribbons with great care, like she was diapering the bum of a new born infant for the first time. She then returned it to the chair she had fetched it from. "It truly is an historical document. You are very lucky your family took such prestigious care of it over the centuries."
"Aye " John said. "Many a lonely night I have spent sitting at the great desk in the Laird's Study combing it's pages. There are notes by some of the verse, passages someone was fond of, perhaps. Several people by the looks of the handwriting. There are several different styles. It looks as if the book itself was a gift from an Alexander Fraser. There is a brief note we found tucked in the back of the book. We traced him to a monastery in France where he was an Abbott about the time Ellen and Brian Fraser were married. He was probably a relation of some sort. Quite a wedding gift, aye? If ye like books, there is also quite a collection of Romance Novels from the early 1700's as well. Someone was sure keen on them. They have been well read over the years; they have lot of wear and tear to them." John winked and we both smiled.
"Well, it was a treat for me" Claire explained to John. "My parents both died when I was very young so I have no siblings. My mother was an only child and my father's one surviving brother is a confirmed bachelor so I don't have much family history of my own, I'm afraid. Your family sounds very special. The stories you shared brought them to life for me. Thank you, again, for the rare and wonderful treat. You could not have picked a better day to show me that book of yours" and Claire nodded her head toward the chair where it rested. "The fact that the book goes all the way back to 1712 and the marriage of Brian Fraser to Ellen MacKenzie, is absolutely amazing."
"When you first heard me call the farm Lallybroch, I had the feeling the name meant something to ye. There was a look in ye eye. When ye finally found the time to look at the Bible, I sensed ye were look'n for something specific. Ye must not have found what ye were after" John said and reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Well, you know," Claire started, "A great many people find answers in that Book" and she nodded toward the chair again. "I did not, however, find an answer to the one I was hoping for. That does not necessarily make it a bad thing, I think. I will consider our meeting today very fortuitous indeed and it is that book and your family history that has brought us together and given us a shared bond. You and I neither have family now, yet because of the book, we have found each other. Perhaps we are our own very unique Clan of two." She winked and squeezed his hand back.
"Aye, I rather like that, Claire." John said looking up from the hand he held hers in. "You can'na be part of Clan Murray, unless ye marry me," and he winked playfully at her, "and no one would believe a Clan Beachamp" he said smiling. "How 'bout we be Clan Fraser. We'll be the survivors from James Fraser, should he have had a family of his own. How would that be for ye?"
Claire squeezed John's hand very hard this time and blinked rapidly to keep away the tears she could feel forming. "I'd like that just fine, John, Mo brathair. Did I pronounce that correctly?" she asked a bit sheepishly.
"See, I ken ye have a little Scottish in ye, lass. I am honored, a charaid."
Both of them began to cry and laugh at the same time, just a little and verra, verra softly and for totally different reasons.
A few moments later Claire stood up and smoothed the front of her nurse's uniform.
"Oh, ye have to be running off then? A sweetheart waiting for ye, I expect." John said teasingly.
"No, John. No sweetheart. The lad I have a bit of a crush on left early this morning. I don't suppose I'll see him again, either. I guess I am all alone." Claire said with a sigh.
"Ye have me lass, and our wee Clan, always" and he smiled a most endearing smile. "Well, if ye will hand me my coat, I have my wallet in the inside breast pocket. I will pay ye back for the things ye picked up for me at the chemists while ye were at lunch. I can'na thank ye enough for ye kindness to an aulde man today. You have been wonderful company."
"I enjoyed myself as well, John. I will stop in to see you again tomorrow, though I won't be able to spend all day with you, as I did today. I will be back on my regular shift. I'll try to remember and bring a deck of cards then you can teach me Gin Rummy over lunch." Claire smiled and walked to the door. Before she left the room, she turned back and said, "You and your book have made my heart rest easier and that in and of itself is a gift. Thank you again, John. Have a good night" and she left the room, picked up her sweater, purse and hat from her locker and made her way home.
"Hello the flat!" Claire called as she closed the door behind her. Silence. She stooped and picked the mail up off the floor and set it on the table by the door, along with her purse. She hung her sweater up in the closet. On her way to her bedroom, she stopped in the bathroom and started to run herself a bath. She came back several minutes later with a glass of wine and one of her peanut butter and honey sandwiches. She was down to her slip when the telephone rang. Who could that be she wondered and she walked out to the hall to answer it.
"Hello? Claire Beauchamp speaking" she said into the phone.
"Claire!" Frank practically shouted.
"I am not deaf, Frank. No need to shout. Where are you?" Claire answered back. Where ever it was, it was loud and full of people.
"You... come... Clachanharry's ... a pint... all ... having …. pint." She was having trouble hearing him. He must be moving the phone away from his face because she was missing a lot of what he said. "Lam.. here... ma... ray... too... jam... mur... darts... come... fish... chips... supper" Frank screamed into the phone so loudly Claire had to hold the receiver away from her ear.
"No Frank. Thanks, not tonight. I'm not very good company right now. I am going to run a hot bath, have a drink, eat something and go to bed. Thanks for thinking of me" and not waiting for a reply from Frank, she hung up the phone and walked back to the bathroom.
Before she could say licky-split the phone rang again.
She walked back and picked up the receiver. "What now Frank?" Claire questioned.
"Claire, don't hang up. Don't run a bath. Come down to the Pub. We can commiserate together. You need to come and I desperately need you here. Besides, you know you want to know what happened at the stones, don't you? The only way you are going to is if you come have a drink with me and I tell you." Frank said and it sounded like he giggled and shushed someone. "I'd come pick you up but I'm too drunk to drive, I'm afraid."
"Jesus, Frank" Claire said. "Just how much have you had to drink? How long have you been at the pub? I'm not really up for this tonight. Maybe tomorrow, please."
"Been here since we left the stones this morning. Came straight away. Come on Clllaaaire. You don't need a soak. Come have a drink with meeee, please. I have a surrrprrrissse for you." Frank teased and then hung up the phone, not give her a chance to say No.
So much for a long, lonely, mind numbingly, hot soak. Claire turned off the water and let the tub drain.
Three quarters of an hour later Claire walked into Clachanharry's wearing comfortable slacks, penny loafers and her Irish sweater. No bra but no one would be able to tell under the bulky, loose fitting sweater. She removed her jacket and hat and looked around the bar. She spied Lambert, and Master Raymond, at a large table off to the side.
Lambert saw Claire walk in, stood and waved her over. She stopped a small blonde barmaid and told her she'd have a whiskey, neat, and when she reached the table she leaned over and gave her uncle a quick peck on the cheek. "This is a pleasant surprise," she said smiling at both Lambert and Raymond. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to her uncle. She laid her coat, hat and purse in her lap and set her hand on top of Lamb's and brushed her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. She'd stay for one drink and then go back to the flat. She was exhausted and really was not up for this much noise and confusion. Not tonight; she really wanted to be alone.
"Where's Frank?" Claire asked looking at Lambert and Raymond, both sitting there staring at her with huge grins on their faces. They looked like two Cheshire cats.
"Teaching a friend to play darts," Lambert said and nudged Raymond, none too subtly. They both giggled.
"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ" Claire exclaimed. "Are you all drunk then? Please tell me you all are not drinking on empty stomachs. Have you eaten anything since last night? If you all went up to the stones, I'll bet none of you ate breakfast, did you?"
The barmaid brought her drink and Claire inquired "Have they," and she pointed at Lamb and Raymond, "have they had anything to eat since they arrived?"
"Not since I came on at noon." the barmaid answered.
"Well, would you bring me a couple of meat pies and two orders of fish and chips to start... I think I'd better get some food in them."
"Aye Miss, I'll put the order in." and the little blonde tossed her hair and walked away. Not toward the kitchen, either.
"Honestly Lamb. You know you should have eaten something... And just why did you not make Frank come back and fetch me this morning, when you realized they gone to the stones without me?" Claire asked in a slightly reprimanding tone. "I really would have expected... Claire stopped abruptly when two large, very masculine, hands firmly grabbed her shoulders from behind.
"About time ye show'd up, lass... I was beginning to think ye din'na care te see..."
Claire just about gave herself whiplash as she turned her head as fast as she could in an attempt to see if her ears were playing tricks on her. They weren't. Her eyes landed on Murtagh. "Murtagh?" she questioned as she stumbled from her chair, letting her coat and hat fall to the floor. She held out her trembling hand, needing to touch him, feel him, to prove to herself he was not a ghost. "It's... it's really you..?" and when her fingers touched his face she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly.
Murtagh gently put his arms around Claire and held her trembling body. "Aye, I'm glad ta see ye as well lass. See'n ye is like finding an early rose hidden among the snow and thorns."
Claire did not release Murtagh from her embrace but leaned her head back to get a good look at him. "Murtagh Fraser, you old softy, you. I never would have pegged you for a poet. Who was the lucky lass that won your heart? Please tell me she did not break it?" Claire cocked her head and smiled at him.
"You Claire. You stole my heart, in less than a day, lass. Much like ye did my godson's" he said placing a hand on her cheek. "I think of ye, maybe, as the daughter I never had" Murtagh said with a smile. "Jamie had me stay. Said he would no leave his heart here unprotected"
"He would not leave his heart here unprotected?" Her whispered voice cracked as she repeated what Murtagh had just said. "Me? I am his heart?" and a tear rolls down her cheek. "Then Jamie is gone? He made it through? He went back? Alone?" Claire asked with panic in her voice. Her eyes searching his face for answers. "I will have Frank look for him straight away. Where is Frank?" Her eyes scanning the room. "The man is never around when I need him."
Murtagh thought about what to tell the lass, how to say what needed to be said, to ease the lass's aching heart. "Jamie tried" he started. "He touched the stone, but found they would no take him, ye see. I can hear them, but he can'na. Master Raymond said they might worked for me, but I was no go'n ta leave ye both here alone. Ye need me too much. Who else would look after the two of ye? So lass, it looks like ye are stuck with a pair of muckle-heided Frasers. Will ye have us?" Murtagh asked as he raised an eyebrow in question.
"He's here? Jamie? Truly?" she asked, her heart leaping to her throat. "Oh God, yes, I'll have you. Both of you" and she kissed the tip of his nose, then her eyes immediately looked over his shoulder for Jamie. A tall red-headed Scot would be hard to miss, even in this pub, but she didn't see him. She looked back at Murtagh with the question written all over her face... Jamie, where is he?
"Do'na ye worry none, he's here" and he motioned his head to the back of the bar. "Frank thought he was teaching Jamie how te play darts... I thinks it's Frank that's gett'n the lesson. We had to do somethin'n to distract Jamie. He was go'n loon wait'n for ye. Come with me," and he held out his hand, "I'll take ye to him."
Claire looked at Murtagh. "He's really here? He didn't go back?"
Murtagh nodded.
Claire threw her arms around Murtagh again and sobbed quietly in his neck
Murtagh leaned his face into her hair and hugged her tight. This lass was special. He ken what Jamie saw in her. It must have ripped the lad's heart from his chest to find the courage to leave her. He understood Jamie's behavior last night now. He raised his eyes and whispered "Thank you." When she finally stopped her sobs and relaxed a little in his arms, he pulled back and said, "Come, let's find Jamie." The smile on the lass's face said it all.
Claire turned, took a swallow from the glass of liquid courage the barmaid had given her, placed her hand in Murtagh's and allowed him to lead her to the back of the bar and around a corner where the dart boards were found. No wonder she hadn't been able to find Jamie before. When they turned the corner her eyes found him immediately. His wavy mop of red hair was easily seen 2-3 inches above the rest of the group. Just the sight of the back of that man's head made her heart start to race and her breathing shorten.
Jamie's back was to them and he was surrounded by a small crowd of mostly men. More than half of them were cheering him on. The room had 3 dart boards, one on each wall. Jamie was playing the board directly ahead of them. Neither of the other two boards were being used at present. Everyone seemed to be watching the match that Jamie was involved in. "He has two more darts to throw and then he'll stop and find us. He won't play now he kens ye're here. We need Jamie to finish this match since we all have money ride'n on him" Murtagh said. "We stand to make a fair amount of coin. He was beside himself with worry about ye, wanted to go straight to hospital and find ye when we returned to the flat and found ye were gone. We ken ye would'na want that, us show'n up at your work, unannounced. We needed to find someth'n to distract him, lass, until you'd come te us. That's how we ended up at the pub. Frank was distracting Jamie, teach'n him how te play and some of the English at the pub thought Jamie'd be an easy mark, so te speak. We've got a wee bet go'n now. The British lads thought they'd make some money off the nubbly-heided Scots, figured Jamie would not pick up the game quickly. They do'na ken Jamie like you and I do, aye? The lad acted confused over the first game and they thought his win was just a bit of luck, but he has been steadily beating each and every one of 'em since. Now their pride is hurt so they keep raise'n the stakes and insulting Jamie, like they think it will shake Jamie's fortitude. Someone called for reinforcements, a ringer, I believe is the term Frank used, from another bar. Jamie's already beaten him twice... This last one is double the money or nothing. "the English do'na even ken they never stood a chance," Murtagh shook his head and chuckled.
"And just which side is our dear little Frank on? Ours, I trust" Claire turned, looked at Murtagh and tried to raise an eyebrow, in a failed attempt at mimicking Jamie. Instead she had to resort to using a fingertip to raise her eyebrow. Her efforts almost cost Jamie his win. Poor Murtagh let loose a burst of laughter just before Jamie made his second toss.
Jamie did not turn and look but stopped until Murtagh regained his control. Why the sudden outburst he wondered. Then he smelled the air and caught her scent. She was here. He sighed, audibly. His godfather was near and dear to his heart, but was not what one would consider a jovial man. Murtagh's laugh told him everything was going to be alright. Claire would forgive him. Oh, he ken he would have to be canny when he approached her; that there would be a loud discussion about his choice to leave her but that her heart was his and all would be right, if he handled this correctly. He would. He would not loose her.
Claire started to tremble again as she stood there watching him, like a puppy anticipating it's favorite treat.
Claire knew that she should turn around, stomp back, grab her coat and hat and leave. When Jamie was returning to his own time, his refusal to take her with him, cut her to the core; she was so hurt and angry. In allowing that anger envelope her, she had squandered the precious last hours, minutes and seconds she could have spent loving him instead of hating him. She had sworn this morning, if she were given an second chance and Jamie ever returned to her, she would not waste a moment being angry, but recognize and acknowledge the gift of his return and be forever grateful for it. She might not like the choices he made but she had to certainly understand and respect his reasoning for making them. He had left not because he didn't love her, but out of honor. He had left her behind because he wanted to keep her safe. So much so he left his godfather behind as well, to look after her, because he could not. She could never stay angry with a man that loved her that deeply and completely. He was back. She would count her lucky stars that they had this second chance. She was not going to squander a moment of it being angry. She would however, have a serious talk with him concerning some of his priorities.
"Shussh," Murtagh whispered. "He's play'n for money. He'll be done in two tosses."
Claire felt the shivers run down her spine. He had stayed. He didn't go back was all she could think about. He was still here. She had to touch him. She wiggled her fingers in anticipation of grabbing him, running her fingers through his hair... She moved her weight from one foot to the other and pulled at her sweater. She turned to look and made sure Murtagh was really beside her, that she wasn't dreaming.
"Aye, it's him. He's really here, lass. Just give him a second..." Murtagh explained in a quiet voice and placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "He's been dancing like a nervous colt, the verra same way as you, wait'n for you to come. We've finally gotten him settled and distracted. Let him win and then he's yours. We won't ask anything more of him once he finishes this game. The coin is too good to pass on... it's the English we're wallop'n, lass" and he grinned.
"Double or noth'n Jamie hits the bullseye on this next toss" said a brown haired man in trousers and a flannel work shirt. "Any takers?"
People shouted and last minute wages were made, then someone said "Quiet. The lad needs quiet" and just as quickly, the room became still.
Jamie took a deep breath, smelling the air, once again for Claire, smiled and adjusted his stance.
"Oh better look out, Jamie's smiling..." the brown haired man said, and grinning himself ear to ear.
Jamie pulled his hand back to his ear and then flicked his wrist forward and let the dart fly.
"BULLSEYE" the room erupted into cheers. Mayhem ensued.
Jamie took a bow. The brown haired man, with a bonnet in his hands, walked the semi-circle around Jamie and people, mostly cursing, dropped money into it. "That's right," the brown haired man said, "Like taken candy from a baby. A English Baby, that is."
"Now he needs the to hit the double to win or his score goes back..." Someone yelled.
Without stopping to think or adjust, Jamie brought his hand back, flicked his wrist and let the last dart fly. It hit the double needed. Jamie, took the bonnet from the brown haired man, reached in and removed a fist full of coins from it. He handed them back to the brown haired man. "I thank ye for your support, friends. My lady is here and I think she wants to have a word with me. She might be a wee mad at me, so I think it best I no keep her waiting. Simon, if you please, will distribute the winnings." and he turned, made a sweeping bow to his English opponent and the rest of the British collective and then completed his turn and looked right at her.
As angry and upset as Claire had been at one time, it all melted away the moment she saw his face and she quickly crossed the distance, right into his open arms.
"So just what have you been up to?" Claire asked looking up at Jamie, arms still around his neck as the kiss ended.
"Frank has been teaching me how to play darts," Jamie said. "For money." And he kissed Claire deeply again.
"Oh he has, has he?" Claire said when they separated for air, looked over at Frank, who had his arm around Murtagh's shoulder, leaning on him in order to remain upright. They were all inembriated. They walked back to the table, where meat pies and plates of fish and chips awaited them. Jamie pulled a chair out and Claire sat down. She took a sip of her scotch and offered the rest of the glass to Jamie.
"Oh, yes I have, Claire. Oh, no, no, no Jamie calls you Sassenach, that's right. Yes, Sassenach, I have taught young James here how to take all my money as well as everyone else's. Because that is just what he has done. The student has surpassed the teacher, I'm afraid, and now I am broke and you must buy me a drink, Claire," Frank said with slurred speech. "I think he has taught half the bar a lesson in darts today, my dear," and he held his finger in the air for emphasis. He placed both hands on the table, leaned forward so that their noses met and said, "Since you are buying the next round Sassenach, make mine a whiskey, with ice, please. I need to take a piss. I shall return." Frank placed a kiss on her forehead then turned on his heels and staggered toward the back of the bar in the general direction of the loo. He passed Murtagh, who was making his way back to the table. Who knows where he had been.
Jamie drained what was left in Claire's glass and set the bonnet down on the table and it was indeed full of money. He had made a killing.
Murtagh, with a bottle in his hand re-filled the glass.
Claire hooked a finger in the bonnet and dragged it toward her for a closer look. "This is quite a profitable little side line you've got going for yourself by the looks of it, my fine sir" she said. "You truly have never played darts before?"
"No." Jamie said nodding his head in affirmation. He grabbed the back of a nearby chair, pulled it out and set it down, with the back right up against Claire's side. He sat down with his legs straddling the back. He placed his fists, one on top of the other on the back of the chair, laid his chin on top of them and looked at Claire's profile with a huge grin on his face.
"Alright, I'm confused," Claire said turning sideways in her chair to look at him. She tucked one leg under the other and adjusted her bum in order to do this. "No, I have never played darts before" and Claire move her head from side to side.. or... "Yes, I have played darts before" and she move her head up and down.
Jamie smiled one of the most endearing smiles she had ever seen and said "No" and nodded his head up and down again.
Claire laughed out loud and accepted another glass of scotch offered to her by Murtagh. She took a generous sip before setting it down.
Jamie leaned toward her. Claire placed her elbow on the back of Jamie's chair, on top of his arm, rested her face on her hand and leaned toward him. Their faces were less 6 inches apart, noses almost touching; only aware of each other. Claire noticed as Jamie's eyes turned that deep, dark, sapphire blue that usually indicated he was contemplating only deep and serious thoughts. He was looked into her eyes like he was studying them.
Finally he spoke. "Ye ken, Sassenach, you are verra bonnie for an English Lass and I have decided that ye have the most beautiful eyes I have ever beheld. I have been try'n, since the moment I saw ye to find a word to describe the color of 'em. First, I thought 'Honey', ye ken, like when ye pour it into your tea in the morning and all the gold, brown and rich amber that falls into the cup."
"But," he said with emphasis, sitting straight in the chair, moving his arm from under her elbow and running his index finger down her nose. "Then I thought whiskey." And he held up her shot glass, still half full. "My beautiful Scotch Whiskey with all the colors of the heather in the autumn are more like your beautiful eyes, Sassenach." He placed it right up to his face, over one eye. He closed the other eye and looked at her only through the whiskey filled part of the glass and smiled that half smile he makes when he is being charming.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, such a smile. Her insides tightened and her heart raced. Jamie downed her shot in one swallow and slammed the glass upside down on the table and yelled "Silenge", turned back and rested his head on his hand, mimicking Claire, and stared back into her eyes. "But whiskey is'na it either," he said.
The rest of the Scots in the bar echoed back "Silenge" and every one of them turned to Jamie, raised their glass or mug to him in tribute, and then took a drink. As Claire panned the bar she realized that her Jamie, was truly "The King of Men", here, in this bar he had only been to three times now. He was a leader, in every sense of the word. Jamie had never stopped wearing his plaid, and she didn't mean to say he was ever the only one, but now you could pan the bar and identify almost every Scot just by their dress. She wondered if they would have followed him into war if he cried for battle. She noticed how many more wore clan colors, proudly displaying clan tartans; some in kilts, like Jamie and Murtagh, others in vests, flannel shirts, jackets, scarfs or even hats. Maybe they had dressed this way yesterday and she had not noticed but Claire did not think so. She thought back to the game of darts and how the Scots had rallied around him. The homogenized bar it once was, it was no longer. You could clearly discern the Brits from the Scots. How had he managed that…?
Claire's attention to this thought was pulled away by Jamie. He was busy tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She turned and smiled.
"But then mo chridhle, I realized your eyes are the color of a verra fine brandy. You are the most beautiful woman I have every beheld. I am a verra fortunate man. I am truly blessed, Sassenach" Jamie said overcome with emotion.
"You are terribly handsome yourself, you know Jamie and she placed a hand on his cheek. The Lasses are certainly crazy for you. The butcher's daughter, Rebecca for one. Look at the little blonde barmaid staring daggers at me right now" and Claire laughed lightly and ran a finger under his jawbone. "And your eyes, my bonnie wee Scot, are like bluest pools of ocean I have ever see, without the fishes of course," she said and smiled. "I get lost in them sometimes, when we talk; I look into them and forget what I was going to say. That first night, when you looked up…" and then suddenly Jamie's lips were on Claire's. Hard. Bruising her mouth in an attempt to swallow her whole. His hand slipped behind her head so she could not pull away from the kiss even if she had the desire to do so (which, for the record, she had no such desire). She closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly and he his, so they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and opened her mouth to him. She melted into the kiss, wanting it to be deeper, to be more, to be longer, to never end. She was sure her heart stopped beating then started back in match with his. Claire could not breathe yet she did not want to stop the kiss long enough to take in the air she needed. She raised her hand and placed it lightly on the side of his neck, wanting to run her fingers though his soft, red hair….
Suddenly they were jolted apart. Something bumped them and there was Frank. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. His timing was terrible. Jamie stopped the kiss, pulled back and turned to Frank, who had knocked the chair he was trying to sit down on into Jamie. Jamie smiled and said "there ya are. Ya must have had to piss like a horse to be gone that long." He placed his very large and beautifully sculpted hand on Frank's shoulder. "I was just trying to decide the color of Claire's eyes. Do you have an opinion on the subject that you would care to share? Do you not think that my Sassenach is the bonniest lass in the bar Frank? She will make a most beautiful Lady Broch Tuarach, no?"
Claire was a puddle of soften butter, trying to gain control of her limbs again when… Wait, hold the bus! Broch Tuarach! "Jamie..." Claire started...
"I like it right here with you, my sweet, soft Sassenach" and he nuzzled back into her neck. "Now, Claire, where were we before Frank knocked into me and broke my concentration?" and he started to nibble her neck.
"Frank," Claire stated. "Frank!" she said a little louder when he did not turn around.
"Huh, what? What Claire? I was watching the barmaid stomp away. She saw you two sucking face and seemed a little put-off by it. As if she had a chance against you for Jamie's attentions" he said smiling as he turned around to face her. "Please, forgive me my primal urges. What is it Malady requires of me?"
"Malady," Jamie stopped nibbling long enough to repeat with a laugh. "Claire would"... Kiss & nibble
"Be"... Kiss & nibble
"Lady Broch Tuarach"... Kiss & two nibbles
"If"... Two kisses
"She married me"... Two kisses & two nibbles
"Correct Murtagh?" he said, turned and looked at his godfather. "Will you wed me Claire?" he said when he turned back to Claire.
She looked at Jamie in total disbelief and blinked twice. What the hell? "Frank, be a doll and pinch me," she said to him and extended her arm in his direction.
Frank looked at her with a knitted brow, in obvious confusion, sensing a trap. "What?"
"Just do it Frank, please. Hard. I think I am dreaming and I need to wake up." Claire begged.
And so Frank, being a loyal friend, did as she requested.
"Ouch! Fuck Frank, that hurt," and Claire gave him a dirty look and rubbed her arm where he pinched her.
"Do you want I should kill him for you Claire? No one will ever hurt you when I am with you. Ever." Jamie stated and sat up and looked at Frank. "Do'na ever hurt my Sassenach ever again Frank or I shall have to kill you where you stand, my friend," and he poked Frank in the chest with his finger.
"I only did as Malady Brock Turrak requested Lord James. She told me to bloody well pinch her, hard and I did. She cannot complain about it after the fact, when she requested the deed." Frank said defending himself.
Jamie turned back to Claire and said, "Sorry hen. If you told him to hurt you then 'all bets are off'," and he turned back to Frank and said, "Did I use it in the correct context, Frank?"
Frank nodded his head up and down and patted Jamie soundly on the back.
Frank stood and turned in his chair and sat down again so he was facing Jamie and Claire and leaned against the back of the chair. "You know Jamie," Frank began, "You and I have met, prior to your attempt to run me through with your sword at Claire's that first night.
Murtagh, Lambert and Raymond stopped their conversation and turned their full attention to Frank.
"Dirk," Jamie interrupted and corrected.
"Whaaat?" Frank slurred in question.
"Not a sword, a dirk," Jamie explained. "I tried to kill you with my dirk. And in my defense, I wasn'a trying to kill you Frank, I was trying to kill Captain Randall of his Majesty's Eighth Dragoons. I was protecting Mo Neighan Donn." Jamie turned and kissed Claire on the lips.
"What is Moneigh done?" Claire asked.
"Mo Neighan Donn … My brown haired lass. And that you are, Claire. My brown haired lass" and he kissed her again.
Claire melted into a puddle of butter, yet again. Frank had told her this tale several times before. He always told it when he was drunk. She rested her head on Jamie's shoulder and sighed as Frank told how he had seen a large, red headed highlander waiting, outside the Bed & Breakfast she was staying in when she had first moved to Inverness. Claire had been brushing her hair in front of her room's window while the fellow stood outside, in the pouring rain, and watched her.
"Why do you think it was Jamie?" Murtagh asked. "And no just a ghost. As ye said it was around Aulde Hallows Eve and the Highlander was gone when ye turned around te watch him walk away."
"And ye said the wind was blowing and yet his cloths were not moving in the wind," Lambert added.
"Because now that I have met Jamie, I know it was him." Frank simply stated. "I do remember a running stag broach that pinned his plain to his shoulder..."
Murtagh and Jamie exchanged looks at that.
Jamie reached into his sporan and removed the running stag broach his sister Jenny had sent him for his birthday while he was at University in Paris. He handed it to Frank. "My sister Jenny gave it to me on my 18th birthday" he stated quietly.
All eyes were on Frank to see if he said it was the same broach. No one spoke a word or made a sound; everyone was holding their breath. Frank looked around the table and then stopped at Jamie's face. He looked down at the broach and rubbed it with his thumbs then back up into Claire's eyes and paused. He then looked back to Jamie and said what we all already knew..."yes, this is the very same broach. "Je Suis Prest. Is it French? What does that mean?" Frank asked.
"I am ready" Jamie quietly replied.
"Well, that's pretty ironic, I'd say" Frank whispered. "Who could every be ready for what has happened to you. Not just this, I mean, pretty much your entire life Jamie."
"Jamie, lad," Murtagh began. "Do you remember such a dream?"
"Aye Murtagh, ye ken I have. Just like ye ken Claire was the curly haired healer from some of my other dreams when ye met her."
"And ye ken it was her when ye met her?" Murtagh asked.
"Aye" was Jamie's reply. "No doubt."
Claire turned and looked at Jamie. "You've had dreams about me? You've never said anything. Will you tell me about them?" She asked.
"I will tell you everythin'n, answer all ye questions, just no here and just no now, aye Sassenach? And he chucked her chin.
Claire nodded.
Neither of them noticed the close attention Master Raymond was paying to their conversation.
"Now then," Frank began. "I suppose the next priority will be to find your family estate, right Jamie? We shall start to hunt in earnest for Lallybroch, first thing tomorrow."
Claire's head shot up and turned again to look at Jamie. "I totally forgot, Jamie. You said your sister's name is Jenny?"
"Aye, Sassenach. 'Tis actually Janet but we all called her Jenny." He said as he smiled. The vision of his older sister's smiling face flashed before his eyes. He gasped just slightly, remembering the last time he had seen her, Captain Randall had been about to rape her. According to his Uncle Dougal, Randall had succeeded in planting his seed in poor Jenny and she bore him a male bairn. His own sister so dishonored. He had been unable to help her, first imprisoned, then flogged within an inch of his life and upon escape, had to flee to France. Only returning to Scotland a week prior to his falling through the stones to Claire. His own good father had died as well shortly after Jamie's flogging. Jenny was all alone. While he served as a mercenary in France he had found his childhood friend Ian Murray and talked Ian into returning home to Lallybroch to help Jenny, because he was unable to because of the price on his head. He hoped that his friend had done so. He had never heard if Ian had made it back or whatever became of Jenny or Lallybroch. He shook his head. This was his only regret for his failure to return to his time.
"Janet." Claire repeated. "Janet Fraser. Janet Flora Arabella Fraser... Murray. The book said Murray after Fraser..."
"Aye, Janet Flora Arabella Fraser. Murray?" Jamie repeated. "Murray? What book, Sassenach?" He look at her in confusion.
"Janet Flora Arabella Fraser married Ian Alastair Robert MacLeod Murray in 1740" Claire recited from memory; with her eyes closed she read the invisible words on the inside of her eyelids. "Their first child, James Fraser Murray was born in 1741." When she opened her eyes everyone at the table was staring at her.
"Well, the book you saw was wrong Sassenach. My Uncle Dougal said that Black Jack Randall raped Jenny when I was taken to Fort Williams to be flogged. And she bore him a bairn. A lad. A bastard. That would have been 1740. Before Ian returned. Dougal never said Jenny married. He implied she had become a soldier's whore." He said hesitatingly, like he was trying to work the logistics out in his head before he spoke.
"Jamie, lad" Murtagh started, with caution. "Ye ken ye Uncle may no have been tell'n ye the truth of the matter. He is always full of lies and deceit, Dougal is As is Colum, for that matter."
Jamie just looked at his godfather while he digested Murtagh's words.
"No other child is born to Janet prior to that, at least according to your family bible. None is noted. Janet and Ian have seven children total," Claire said directly to Jamie. "Though one dies the same day it is born, all the others survive and produces heirs. Lallybroch goes to the Murray family. It's no longer belongs to Clan Fraser. Do you know an Ian Murray, Jamie?"
"Aye, Sassenach." Jamie said. "John Murray was my father's factor. Ian Murray, was his son and my playmate and best friend."
"When I went into hospital this morning, there was a new patient. He goes by the name of John Murray, Jamie. His name in his charts said Ian Murray, Ian Brian James Fraser Murray, Laird Broch Tuarach he said and that his home is Lallybroch." Claire finished almost in a whisper as she watched a plethora of expressions project across Jamie's face. Exhaustion was the last one. He looked worn out. "Murtagh, I think it is time we get Jamie back to the flat. It has been a rather long and exhausing day for all of us. I know tomorrow you two will want to go to hospital and meet John Murray."
"Aye, Lass. Let's get Jamie home. The lad is worn out. Tomorrow he will want to meet this Laird."
Claire turned to Lambert and Master Raymond. "Thank you for being there, and here for them and she nodded at both Jamie and Murtagh. I can not thank you enough. We will see you tomorrow, then." Claire then turned to Frank and mouthed Thank you to him as well. She left money on the table. Murtagh grabbed Jamie's bonnet and they walked out the pub and headed back to the flat.